We all circled around the clipboard, our coach on his knees frantically drawing up our plans for the second half. "Craig," he began, staring straight into my eyes as if there was more at stake than just a recreational soccer game. "You are the horns of the bull." He scribbled an arrow from the 'x' on the top left of the clipboard straight towards the opposing goal. "Every time we shoot the ball I want you in the keeper’s face. The horns, Craig."
He wasn’t the first coach to drill the concept of hustle into my head. When I was five, and it was my first full season playing soccer, the coach recognized my speed. It was my divine mission to stop the best player on the opposing team. It was a real-life David and Goliath. His muscular stature standing at five feet one-hundred pounds versus my puny, underweight body, lucky to weigh half that. He was bigger than any other player in the entire league, playing soccer like Lionel Messi or Ronaldinho and known for dribbling up and down the miniature playing field, dominating any competitors with an odd combination of speed and sheer size. I had to work my tiny legs off in order to slingshot this beast. I was dropped into a sport I fell in love with, but also one that required an amount of dedication and heart that would be almost immeasurable.
The concept of hustle, or trying your absolute hardest, was instilled in me at a young age. That coach told me to give it all I had, and for the rest of my time playing soccer, that is exactly what I would do. I will admit, however, that when it came to pure talent, I was not remotely the best. At times even, my technical skill in certain areas was significantly behind the other players which was just motivation and caused me to work even harder. In middle school, I was not the starting left striker like I had hoped I would be. I had conjured up the image of a goal scored in my mind, but the starting position did not come easy. I had to earn my position as a starter. I attended every single practice with the intent to prove to my coach that I was going to earn my spot by pure hustle and vast improvement. I tried harder than any other player on the team. When players were slacking off during drills or fooling around during scrimmages I was working hard to improve my playing. I gave it my all and, eventually, I did earn that coveted spot and I deserved every minute I started.
But of course, after my goal was achieved, I had to get better. The next coach I had was stern, known for extreme temper tantrums when players did not do what he said. He drilled the concept into my head so hard that it was etched into my brain. Before he would put me in the game, he would tell me to run until I puked. Although I never did vomit, every time I came out of the game I felt horrible. The only consolation was a pat on the back from my coach, which meant that I gave it my all and he could tell. I was nicknamed “the trashpicker” because of my tendency to put rebounds in the back of the net. I wore that name like a badge of honor because it showed that my teammates noticed my hustle and my intense desire to do well and try my hardest.
The life lessons I learned about giving it my all has a myriad of applications in future situations. Even in my current situation in college, it takes an intense amount of effort to succeed. Even farther in the future, I must continue to work hard to get my degree, get a good job, and even take care of my family. Soccer is an entertaining sport, but more than that, it instills intrinsic values into the players who chose to accept them. When I played, I chose to accept that I would have to work very hard to improve and do well in the sport and that is why I was able to succeed. sm
He wasn’t the first coach to drill the concept of hustle into my head. When I was five, and it was my first full season playing soccer, the coach recognized my speed. It was my divine mission to stop the best player on the opposing team. It was a real-life David and Goliath. His muscular stature standing at five feet one-hundred pounds versus my puny, underweight body, lucky to weigh half that. He was bigger than any other player in the entire league, playing soccer like Lionel Messi or Ronaldinho and known for dribbling up and down the miniature playing field, dominating any competitors with an odd combination of speed and sheer size. I had to work my tiny legs off in order to slingshot this beast. I was dropped into a sport I fell in love with, but also one that required an amount of dedication and heart that would be almost immeasurable.
The concept of hustle, or trying your absolute hardest, was instilled in me at a young age. That coach told me to give it all I had, and for the rest of my time playing soccer, that is exactly what I would do. I will admit, however, that when it came to pure talent, I was not remotely the best. At times even, my technical skill in certain areas was significantly behind the other players which was just motivation and caused me to work even harder. In middle school, I was not the starting left striker like I had hoped I would be. I had conjured up the image of a goal scored in my mind, but the starting position did not come easy. I had to earn my position as a starter. I attended every single practice with the intent to prove to my coach that I was going to earn my spot by pure hustle and vast improvement. I tried harder than any other player on the team. When players were slacking off during drills or fooling around during scrimmages I was working hard to improve my playing. I gave it my all and, eventually, I did earn that coveted spot and I deserved every minute I started.
But of course, after my goal was achieved, I had to get better. The next coach I had was stern, known for extreme temper tantrums when players did not do what he said. He drilled the concept into my head so hard that it was etched into my brain. Before he would put me in the game, he would tell me to run until I puked. Although I never did vomit, every time I came out of the game I felt horrible. The only consolation was a pat on the back from my coach, which meant that I gave it my all and he could tell. I was nicknamed “the trashpicker” because of my tendency to put rebounds in the back of the net. I wore that name like a badge of honor because it showed that my teammates noticed my hustle and my intense desire to do well and try my hardest.
The life lessons I learned about giving it my all has a myriad of applications in future situations. Even in my current situation in college, it takes an intense amount of effort to succeed. Even farther in the future, I must continue to work hard to get my degree, get a good job, and even take care of my family. Soccer is an entertaining sport, but more than that, it instills intrinsic values into the players who chose to accept them. When I played, I chose to accept that I would have to work very hard to improve and do well in the sport and that is why I was able to succeed.
sm